


Practice Makes Perfect

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John discovers just how seriously Aeryn takes his safety: If she has to pin him down and force him to let her practice CPR on him several times a week, then that is exactly what she'll do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Setting, post Through The Looking Glass. Inspired by comments on our rewatch of Infinite Possibilities last night that Aeryn must have been practicing CPR with some enthusiasm ever since The Flax. 
> 
> Warning for low level smuttiness. And seriously, don't try this at home. You could hurt someone!
> 
> Thanks to the Sunday Night rewatchers (Vinegardog, MarieYotz, Strangewebby and John-Scorpy) for the idea and Vinegardog for a speedy read through, corrections and suggestions.
> 
> No money made, not mine.

“Hold still and let me practice!” Aeryn demanded. She had her Stern, Serious Peacekeeper face on, tinged with a hint of her I’m Frustrated With The Annoying Erpman frown, so John was very much inclined to accede to her demands. And that was without taking into account that she already had him pinned down. He was lying on his back on the big Peacekeeper mat in her gym while she sat atop him, straddling his hips.

“But it’s the third time this week…” he caught her almost inaudible growl of frustration at his protest and instantly corrected himself. “Weeken, sorry. But it’s still the third time!” John smirked openly as he spoke, determined to tease her for all this was worth, which was quite a bit. “Some guys might think you were just making excuses to…”

“I need to practice your CeeThreepio thing!” She interrupted, anger reddening her cheeks, or was it maybe embarrassment? Or something else, perhaps even desire? “You could have been killed today, taking those risks with that extra-dimensional being!” She protested with unusual emotional animation, speaking over his lustful train of thought. She sort of had a point. When Moya had been caught mid star-burst and been split between three hyperspatial dimensions he’d taken a lot of risks, including the last, big one, going to pow-wow with the multi-clawed God-Like-Critter through the rent in space-time.

He flashed her what he hoped was a charming, apologetic grin. She glowered back down at him. “So, either you let me practice, Crichton, or I get D’Argo in here and you can teach him how it’s done!” He spent a microt too long considering his response. “Or maybe you’d prefer Rygel?” She added with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“OK, OK!” John conceded. She nodded grimly, tossed her hair back over one shoulder, pinched his nose shut and lowered her head down towards his. He always loved this part, the anticipation, the touch of her hair against his face, the slight fragrance his nose would have caught from her if it hadn’t been pinched shut as she moved in closer and, above all, the tantalising sight of her luscious lips approaching his.

“Be gentle with me!” John mock-begged her, his voice taking on the ridiculous tone of the nasally constricted, just before her lips sealed with his.

Aeryn was really rather good at the mouth-breathing business. John couldn’t really fault her technique in any way. Not that he was even thinking of complaining: each of the dozen or so times Aeryn had cornered him for one of her training sessions, things had steadily progressed from simply breathing exercises and on to other, more enjoyable mouth to mouth contact at a tantalising slow yet enjoyable pace.

This time seemed no different. After maybe half a dozen slow breaths she released her grip on his nose and stopped breathing into his mouth. Microts latter, her tongue snaked out, exploring, searching for his. How could he disappoint her? Their tongues touched, tips toying for maybe a dozen microts, and then she quickly drew away. Just like always.

“You seem to be getting the hang of that quite nicely,” John remarked as Aeryn finally came up for air.

“Hmm.” Aeryn seemed unconvinced. “Needs more practice.”

John smirked and nodded. He licked his lips suggestively. She shook her head once, quickly. “Chest compressions now.”

“You know,” John continued as, without preamble, she roughly pulled up his shirt. “CPR might work on Sebaceans, too. Maybe we ought to practice that, as well.”

“Maybe,” Aeryn shrugged nonchalantly as she finished arranging his shirt to her satisfaction. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…”

“Just to be on the safe-side….” John winked at her as her fingers splayed out across his chest, tousling through his hair.

“To prepare for all eventualities,” Aeryn confirmed with what seemed to John like the merest hint of a smile.

“Ouch!” John protested as she pinched his nipple, grinning openly at him now.

“Concentrate, Crichton!” she scolded him. “This is important!”

“Yes, ma’am,” John conceded.

“So, compressions?” Aeryn demanded, her po-face suddenly fully back in place. “Fifteen, yes?”

“Fifteen,” John sighed and nodded.

“Then back to the breathing exercise…” she continued, licking her lips. Was that really a hungry gleam in her eye, John wondered once again, or just the light in here?

 

The end?


End file.
